


Nothing, Nothing

by Anyaparadox



Series: Everything, Everything (Alternate Reality) [2]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV), The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 03:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyaparadox/pseuds/Anyaparadox
Summary: "She looks at him, truly looks at him for what seems like the first time in months. He looks the same as she remembers; he’s handsome, with well-worn laughter lines on the corners of his blue eyes. He’s got the same dimples she fell in love with, and even though this face is the same as the monster she had dreamt of, this one is older, and Caroline loves him.“You killed people,” she hears herself whisper.----Caroline and Klaus return to their reality where they are mortal and human, and not the hybrid and baby-vampire they have spent the last few months dreaming of being.





	Nothing, Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the long-time-coming follow up from "Everything, Everything". I warn you this will not make sense without reading that first. 
> 
> Caroline and Nik return to their reality.

Caroline wakes up screaming, lurching herself into alertness violently. She’s halfway sat up before she stops her voice, but it’s another moment before she takes stock of her surroundings.

It’s her bed. Her beautiful bed, with its dark navy and white stripes. Everything on her dresser is in order, photos staring back at her the way they always do. 

Everything is perfect. Except for the fact that _he’s_ there, sitting on his side of the bed, feet on the floor and head in his hands.

“Klaus.” She says.

He visibly flinches, and when he sits up and turns his head to look at her Caroline notices for the first time just how _old_ he seems right now. Ancient with grief and horror.

“You don’t call me that.” 

It’s her turn to flinch. 

They stare each other down, electricity jumping between them. Caroline cannot for the life of her decide what to do, and she is always, _always_ the one who decides. Nik — or, Klaus… is watching her carefully, as though he’s waiting for her to run or scream or attack. She hates it.

“I don’t know—” a sob catches in her throat but she forces herself to finish, “I don’t know— we’re home?”

It’s only then that Nik moves, undone at the sight of her tears. And that… that more than anything else shows her that it’s _him_. Within moments he’s crouched on the bed, wrapping her in his arms, the safest place in the world.

“We’re home, we’re home,” he whispers into her hair, and everything about this is familiar, “we’re safe. It’s us, and we’re safe, and _none _of that was real.”

Caroline cries until she can’t anymore, and then she lifts her head again. Nik looks absolutely wrecked, and for the first time she forgets how hard this is for her, because it must be a _thousand_ times worse for him.

“How much do you remember?” She asks. 

He visibly pales, blue eyes dancing with shadows, “All of it. Everything I did — everything _he_ did.”

“It wasn’t you,” Caroline says, because she is sure, if nothing else, of this. “It wasn’t you. And it wasn’t me. We didn’t do those things, Nik. I know it, and you should, too.”

He closes his eyes for a long breath, and when he opens them he forces a semblance of a smile onto the face that she knows as well as she knows her own.

“I love you,” he says, and it feels just as perfect as every other of the thousand times he has said those words.

Caroline tries to forget Klaus — forgets his wicked games, and his yellow eyes, and all of the horrible things he did. She stares at Nik, the man she knows better than she knows herself, and she remembers dancing, and his safe hands, and the way he loves her.

“I love you, too.” 

* * *

Of course, it isn’t quite that easy. Despite it being the middle of the night still, Caroline drags herself from their bed and showers, even though she has hours until she has to even think about work. Nik lays back down, attempting to go back sleep. She doubts he’ll be able to, but she won’t begrudge him his attempts.

Mystic Falls has never felt more poisonous. Caroline sees ghosts and shadows everywhere she looks. She picks up each photo gently on her dresser, wrapped in her coziest housecoat. Elena, Bonnie, Damon, Stefan… they’re all human here. They’re all safe and kind and wonderful, and Caroline loves them.

It’s almost hard to reconcile the fact that she had loved them in the _other_ as well. It hadn’t mattered what they were, or what they did. _Other_ Caroline had loved them, and protected them. Caroline couldn’t fault herself that. In any other world, she would love her friends, of course. 

Her wedding photo, so comfortable in her hands, is almost unbearable to look at. Caroline stares for a long time before hands come to rest around hers on the frame. Nik surrounds her, safe and warm, the way he always has been. She turns in his arm and leans against the dresser, setting the photo back down. 

She looks at him, truly looks at him for what seems like the first time in months. He looks the same as she remembers; he’s handsome, with well-worn laughter lines on the corners of his blue eyes. He’s got the same dimples she fell in love with, and even though this face is the same as the _monster_ she had dreamt of, this one is older, and Caroline _loves _him.

“You killed people,” she hears herself whisper.

His eyes are wet, “I did. You did, too. It was a nightmare.”

They stare at each other in silence, unable to put words to what had happened to them, but knowing that both of them had been a part of it. Caroline never believed in magic before, but she has no doubt about it now. She’s felt it, she’s been a victim of it.

“I love you,” Nik whispers abruptly, “Even then,even _there_, I loved you. Even in _his _memories, I did.”

Caroline’s heart pounds, the same way it always has when Nik has said something particularly romantic, but this time, she’s left speechless. She knows she loves him — it’s not something you can just _turn off_, it’s ingrained in her every cell — Caroline Forbes will always love Niklaus Mikaelson. 

“I hated you,” Caroline says instead.

Nik shuts his eyes, face drawn as if in pain, “When we were… wherever we were?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t blame you,” Nik murmurs, “I hated myself. It was the one thing that the other Klaus and I had in common, it seems.”

“She didn’t — she didn’t hate _him_ though. She tried to, but she couldn’t. Not really,” Caroline whispers. She can still feel the memories in her soul; blood dripping from her own lips, and black veined eyes staring back at her. She remembers killing innocents, and how her heart was heavy with regret but heavier with bloodlust. She remembers the way she stared at the face of a monster — a man she loved, a man she married — and he didn’t _know _her. She remembers him killing Jenna, and destroying her life, and the way his eyes burned yellow when he unleashed his fury.

Nik must read this in her expression, because he says, “We need to forget. Get past it. As much as we can, and try to go back to where we were before. It wasn’t _real_, Care.”

Another reminder — Care. The way he says her name sounds different to her ears than the way Klaus had always said _Caroline_.

Caroline glances at him, taking in his appearance. His eyes are still teary, and Caroline knows that Nik is horrified. They’re still curled together against the dresser, both broken in new ways they never could have expected, and Caroline knows that Nik is scared. She is too, but she knows by the way Nik’s hands are claws in her back and his eyes are searching hers that he thinks she hates him. He thinks she hates him the way the other Caroline hated Klaus.

So Caroline pulls herself to him, wraps her own arms around his neck and lets his head fall into her collarbone. He comes willingly, curling his face to rest in her neck, tears making her grey t-shirt damp. Caroline lets herself cry with him, and she never lets go of him, even when her arms are tired and sore.

“I love you, I love you,” Caroline whispers into his hair, “it’s not your fault, it wasn’t you, and I _love_ you, I always have.”

When they both feel a little bit more like the world is going to continue on Nik stands up straight and tugs her hand towards the bed. The clock says that it’s still the middle of the night, and Caroline goes willingly with him. They wrap around each other in the bed that still smells like them, and she tries to reconcile the fact that she’s spent months being held in some sort of stasis in another reality with the fact that she’s home in her own bed, and nothing will ever be the same.

They don’t speak, because they have nothing they can possibly say. Nik pulls her uncomfortably close, kisses her forehead. Caroline feels a ghost of her smile hit her lips, and she falls asleep in the same arms she’s fallen asleep in for the last ten years, and she thinks that maybe it will be okay.

* * *

Then, she dreams. She dreams of a Mystic Falls she knows where a Caroline that’s not her struggles to figure out what to do. She dreams of an art gallery where Klaus earned her trust and a diamond necklace that she loves. She dreams of the first time Klaus changed into a wolf, and how scared she was.

She dreams of the second time Klaus changed, and how she curled up beside him as a wolf, closer to him than ever before. She dreams that she loves him — in a different way than Caroline knows she loved him before… it’s different because she’s dreaming about _different_ people, but it’s the same. Nik has always been hers, in the same way she’s always been his, in any reality.

She dreams of a phone call in the night that destroyed her life, taking away two people that meant the world to her. She dreams of a sterile hospital room, and familiar blonde hair and blue eyes, and the fact that there is suddenly someone who depends _entirely_ on her.

And then, right before she wakes up, Caroline dreams of a tiny white stick with a pink plus on it and the feeling that she’s _finally_ got everything.

* * *

This time, when Caroline wakes up, the first thing she sees is blue eyes peering over the edge of her bed. They’re red-rimmed and a little swollen, and Caroline just _knows_ that it’s not something she can fix.

“Hannah,” Caroline whispers, sitting up just enough that she can pull her covers back. The little girl scrambles into them, over Caroline and between Nik and her. She’s shaking, whether with cold or repressed sobs, Caroline’s not sure. Either way, she slides back under the blankets, and both Nik and her press close enough that Hannah’s sandwiched between them.

“I miss my mom and dad.” Hannah cries, tears spilling onto her round cheeks. Her breathing is too fast, and Caroline can do nothing but watch as her niece falls apart between them. Nik has wrapped his arm around Hannah’s tiny frame, and Caroline never felt this helpless, and she’s not even sure if Nik _knows_ what’s happened.

“I miss them too, Hannah banana,” Nik whispers, “and I don’t think we will ever stop missing them.”

Hannah swings blue eyes to stare at him, teary and appraising, “You haven’t called me that in a long time, Uncle Klaus.”

Nik frowns in displeasure, and Caroline just doesn’t know how to _fix_ this; there are so many thoughts whirring in her head, and despite the fact that the dreams she had gave her so much information about the time they were away there isn’t any way to sort it. Caroline has no timeline, no reference points, and she’s drowning.

“I’m sorry, Hannah banana.” Nik murmurs, and Caroline knows that his heart is breaking. She _knows_ he’s devastated if he knows about Rebekah.

Hannah’s eyes are drying now, and she flips her gaze in between Caroline and Nik intermittently, as though she’s torn between curiosity and sadness.

“Is it because you guys are back now?” Hannah finally asks, and Caroline’s stomach drops.

“What do you mean?” 

Hannah shrugs, “Uncle Klaus and you were weird for a while. It wasn’t you — I could tell. Mom didn’t believe me, but I knew.”

Nik looks shaken when he murmurs, “I’m sure they believed you, but adults can be silly sometimes.”

Caroline is still incredulous, “You knew it wasn’t us, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Hannah says this in the same way Caroline’s heard teenagers say _duh_, and she cringes at the sass in her tone, “it wasn’t you. But they were nice. The people who were pretending to be you.”

Caroline has a feeling that this conversation has spiralled so much and so fast that she’ll never get it back on track. In a way, it’s not surprising that Hannah is the only person who realized something was wrong. She spends a lot of time at their house, and children tend to have less of a restriction on believing the impossible.

“They were nice,” Nik repeats, totally nonplussed.

Hannah smiles, and it’s a shadow of the smiles Caroline is used to seeing from her, “Yeah. They were fun. I missed you, though.”

She sniffles again, tears winding down her cheeks. 

“Care, you should call in sick to work until we can figure this out.”

Caroline laces her fingers with his, their wedding rings making the slightest clinking sound as she does so. It feels right, as nothing has felt in what feels like months.

“I’ll call. Why don’t we all go have some breakfast first?”

They all climb out of bed, and Hannah reaches her arms up to be carried. She’s too big for such things, but these are hardly normal circumstances, and Nik lifts her up without blinking. They head downstairs as a group, and their house is _almost_ exactly the same. Their furniture and art haven’t moved, but there’s a blanket on the couch that has never been there before. The kitchen isn’t as spotless as Caroline vividly remembers leaving it the last time she was here. There are dishes in the sink, and a vase full of flowers that neither she nor Nik have ever seen.

The phone rings as soon as Nik has set Hannah down in a chair, and he goes to answer it. 

“Hello?” His face changes as he listens to whoever is on the other line, sadness and horror tracing itself on his expression. He backs himself up until he’s leaning against the wall and when he smacks up against it he slides to the floor. 

“Yes,” his voice sounds like its being dragged over gravel, “we’re okay for now.”

Caroline has known Nik for a long time, and she has never seen him look so defeated. His eyes search for her across the kitchen and he gestures for her to come over.

“I’ll pass her the phone. Thanks.”

After he speaks the words he thrusts the phone out at Caroline, covering his face with his other hand. She takes it, putting her ear to the receiver.

“This is Caroline Mikaelson,” she says cautiously.

The voice on the other end is solemn but professional, “Hello Mrs. Mikaelson, this is Dr. Ross. We spoke last night at the Mystic Falls General Hospital, I was calling in follow up to our conversation last night regarding Hannah. We have a social worker contact who would like to meet with you and see your house and get started on adoption papers. Are you still considering going through with adopting Hannah as her legal next-of-kin?”

Caroline swallows a scream and tries her best to remind herself that this doctor doesn’t know what they’ve gone through. He doesn’t know that she isn’t the same woman he spoke to last night. 

“Of course,” she forces out, “we’re going to take care of Hannah.”

Dr. Ross’ voice is gentle when it comes back, “Of that, I have no doubts, Mrs. Mikaelson. Could I book an appointment for this coming Tuesday? The social worker’s name is Linda Parsons and she’s very good. She could come over for, say, 5 o’clock?”

Caroline nods before realizing that he can’t see her, and she clears her throat. “Yes. That works. Please pass on my number.”

The doctor says his goodbyes and hangs up and Caroline lets the phone dangle limply from her hand. Nik is staring at her, once again confronted with this reality where his beloved baby sister is _dead_ and they are now parents to their niece.

Caroline can’t even imagine the implications of her dream and that damn pink plus sign.

“Thank god,” Nik finally mutters.

“What?” 

Nik clears his throat, “Thank god they told the doctor we wanted her. That they were trying to be _human_ here. Care, do you even realize how much damage they could have done?”

Caroline wants to blame _other_ Klaus and Caroline for everything, but she realizes Nik is actually correct. They both know exactly what they were capable of, and the fact that Hannah is alive and well and under their care is a big deal.

“They were human, though,” Caroline whispers. Hannah is still sitting at the table, half watching them and half staring at the cast on her arm.

Nik nods but his eyes dart away from her face. “I guess. Had to fit in.”

Caroline stands again and goes to get Hannah some cereal. They all eat together at the table, and Nik finds the medication for Hannah’s arm and gets her to take it. It obviously makes her sleepy, since by the time she’s almost done her breakfast her eyes are drooping. 

Caroline calls work while Nik carries Hannah to the couch and puts on a kids movie. They probably shouldn’t let her sleep more, but if anyone deserves it, it’s her.

“C aroline, I need to tell you something.” Nik’s voice is scared when he comes back to the kitchen, and Caroline’s stomach drops again. 

Caroline honestly doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t even care what it is, she honestly doesn’t want to know. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Nik is already pulling her towards his studio, shutting the door behind them.

He stops dead before stepping further though, and Caroline sees why. So many of his paintings are new and different, darker and filled with what looks like the English countryside. Lots of them are of her, but not exactly in the same style that Nik has painted her in a thousand times.

“He also painted,” Nik says.

Caroline runs her fingers gently over a framed piece she doesn’t recognize, “They went to the art gallery. The one we booked ages ago. I dreamt of it. He added a few pieces of his own.”

Nik shrugs, “At least he’s a good artist if nothing else, I guess.”

Caroline can’t help it, she laughs. It’s surprising, and once she does it she can’t quite stop. Nik glances at her and then chuckles as well. It’s bordering on hysterical, but it feels nice after the terrible few hours they’ve had back in their reality to laugh at something.

Soon enough they sober, and Nik looks just as determined as he did when he entered the kitchen. 

Caroline doesn’t mean to say anything when they sit on his couch together, but almost unwillingly she whines, “please don’t tell me.”

His blue eyes — his handsome, loving, wonderful blue eyes — are resolved. “I’m sorry. You have to know.”

Caroline can’t help but listen to him when he starts. He tells her about his family growing up, something she already knows about, but he goes on to tell her about a curse that he inherited — a curse that only he received because of his mother’s affair. Caroline wishes she didn’t know where this was going, except that she had been in other Caroline’s head, and she had _known_, hadn’t she? Caroline wasn’t stupid, and even in another reality where she was overwhelmed with dreams of memories she’d never actually made, she could put together the clues.

Nik, her husband who dotes on her and _never_ lies, always seemed to have some sort of flimsy excuse to be away from the house for two days of the month, and —surprise!— those two days were always the day of the full moon and the day after.

“I’m a werewolf,” Nik says heavily, just as she connects the dots in her head.

Caroline swallows heavily though because she knows this lore. She’s spent _months_ dreaming about this type of myth,“Who did you kill to trigger the curse?” 

She’s not even afraid of him, or even the answer, and that’s the most surprising thing of it all.

“Elijah.” Nik whispers, “It was an accident… I didn’t mean to, and Henrik and I promised not to tell, and—”

His voice cracks and wavers, and suddenly Caroline just doesn’t give a damn anymore, because this is _Nik_. This is the same man that has fed her soup when she’s sick, and laughed with her when she’s made stupid jokes, and painted her from every angle possible; it’s the same man who only a few minutes ago carried their niece as though nothing else mattered, the same man who had promised to love her forever and had never wavered.

“It’s fine,” Caroline interrupts, and she means it. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault, I know it. I love you, Nik. And it kind of seems that I have loved you in every single universe.”

Nik looks like he doesn’t believe her. It’s heartbreaking. She goes to him, curls up in his lap and wraps herself around him as tight as she can go.

“I don’t care that you’re a werewolf,” her voice chokes a bit on the unfamiliar word, “I care that you are the same man that I’ve always loved. And you are, Nik. You’re everything.”

Nik kisses her, the first kiss since they’ve been back in their world, in their house, and he plunges his hands into her hair to hold her willingly captive and she lets herself melt back into him, a motion as familiar as breathing.

They end up on the couch, him on top of her, tugging at each other’s clothes until they can get closer, closer, closer. He makes love to her, it’s the most desperate she’s ever felt, clawing at his back until she finishes, and he chases completion until they’re both panting.

He’s buried in her neck, breathing hot against her damp skin, and Caroline can feel tears beading at the corner of her eye. She’s overwhelmed, to be sure, but she’s also happy, for the first time in months. Being with Nik? That’s the least scary or complicated thing she’s ever done. It’s an absolute no-brainer, and there are no words to describe the relief Caroline feels that she still has this.

Nik rolls off of her but tugs her close, pulling an old blanket to cover them, “Do you think they loved each other?”

She knows who he is talking about. She also knows there’s no answer but the obvious.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?” He asks.

Caroline sighs and looks at him, just looks. “Because as much as I hate to say this… they’re _us_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know they were different, and vampires, and did horrible things… but they were us, too. They just had different circumstances.”

Nik smirks at her, and Caroline has _missed_ that, “Are you saying we didn’t have a choice in loving each other?”

Caroline laughs, “Everyone has a choice, I guess. But sometimes it just feels like every part of you is mine, and all of me is yours, and really nothing could change that.”

Nik’s eyes are half-amused, but he sobers as he thinks about it. 

“Caroline Mikaelson, there has never been anyone in this world or any other world quite like you.” Nik’s voice is soft and gentle and he reaches out a single finger to trace down her shoulder.

Courage, out of nowhere, blooms inside her, and she snatches at his hand to squeeze it tight.

“I love you,” she starts with, “and I know this is about to sound insane, but, I think I’m pregnant.”

Nik freezes, and he watches her carefully, “Care… you know that the doctor said—”

Caroline interrupts, “I know. I remember. But I swear to you… when _they_ were here they were in our bodies, right? They were younger than us, they wouldn’t have fit in, but they did. In everything, I dreamt it was _our bodies_.”

Nik’s grip on her hand is almost painfully tight but Caroline doesn’t try to shake it off. 

“We should take a test.” 

Caroline nods. “We should. I have one hidden upstairs, we can go get it. I’m serious though, I’m really, _really_ sure.”

They dress silently, both wrapped in their emotions. Caroline knows that Nik is scared; he remembers vividly how she fell apart that day at the doctors when they were told that children probably weren’t in the cards. He knows exactly what a negative pregnancy test will do to her right now, and she can’t blame him for preparing himself for another disappointment. 

Caroline is sure, though. The memory she has of other Caroline in her body is vivid, and even without that she knows something is different.

She pops her head in the living room before they head upstairs and Hannah is still sound asleep, some animated movie playing quietly in the background. Nik has draped the unfamiliar blue blanket on her, and her forehead is creased into frowns that no child her age should have.

_Damn_. Caroline is all at once overwhelmed at the sight of her. They have an emotional and dependent Hannah, a beloved sister and friend dead, months unaccounted for, Nik’s werewolf bomb, and now a possible pregnancy. It’s a lot.

It’s still nice to be home, despite this, though she wishes that she could have taken the Matt from the other reality back here with her. Of all the terrible things in the _other_ Mystic Falls, Matt was actually one of the better things.

Nik is already in their bathroom when she gets up there, sitting on the edge of the tub where they have shared many baths together. He’s sweating through his green t-shirt, but Caroline doesn’t point it out. She crouches and digs in the back of the cupboard for the long-hidden pregnancy test — she had buried it back there to be forgotten with her dreams of children.

She has no qualms about peeing in the same room as Nik after all these years, but he still spins away from her to give her some privacy. She can almost hear his heart pounding inside his chest, beating the same rhythm as hers is.

Caroline doesn’t need the two minutes. The minute she pulls the damn stick away it’s lit up as bright as can be, pink plus. She’s grinning, and a bit speechless, and Nik is still facing away from her.

“How long do we wait?” He says towards the wall as if they haven’t done this exact process together a few times before. 

She stands and crosses the few steps to him, “Nine months, give or take a few.”

Nik turns so fast he nearly falls into the tub and she hands him the stick with the prominent plus. He almost looks as though he’s about to pass out, and he lunges to his feet and towards her as though to embrace her before stopping dead.

“We have to go to the doctor! We have to get you checked! I have—“

“_You_ have to do nothing but get over here and hug me,” Caroline commands.

Nik does, then, squeezing her gently and letting the test clatter onto the counter. He’s speechless, again, and she’s in tears.

“We’re going to need a bigger house.” He says, dumbfounded.

Caroline laughs, a little choked up.

“We better be sticking around, this time.” She says, "we've got Hannah and the baby."

Nik pulls back, catching her eyes. He’s smiling, this stupid dopey grin that Caroline loves. It’s probably the best sight she’s ever seen in her entire life.

“There is nothing that could ever tear me away from this.” He declares as if his words alone would banish the thought of magic that had torn them away before. 

Caroline forces a watery smile, “Nothing?”

Nik presses his face into her hair, and Caroline wonders how in the hell she managed to have this. How they managed to salvage some beauty in the face of disaster.

“Care,” Nik breathes, “absolutely _nothing._ Not even magic.”

Caroline smiles, her heart pounding the same way it does every time Nik does anything romantic, “Do you promise?”

Nik lets go of her with one hand and presses it gently against her heart, pounding and mortal. His wedding ring is warm, and Caroline loves, _loves_ him.

“I do,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! You may have noticed that parts of this mirrored dialogue and actions in the original Everything, Everything. This was entirely intentional because I wanted to show that as different as the two Caroline/Klaus' were they still felt similarly, moved similarly, interacted similarly. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this snippet, comments are always appreciated! Thank you.


End file.
